Sheepeater Cliff And walk among long, dappled grass

For a while, Saena plodded along with her head low to the ground and her nares flaring intermittently to take in residual scents. For a while, Brontide was unnoticed. It was the gentle clatter of pebbles falling from the cliff edge that alerted her to him. Her ears scooped forward and she lifted her head until it lay level with her shoulders, and her expression was pensive as she regarded the distant man. As he drew closer, she picked up on more and more details, until finally her snout rumpled with displeasure.

The glint of golden eyes gave away that Brontide wasn't Reek, but everything else about him was nearly identical, down to the premature greying that hugged his snout and cheeks and the sunken eyes. Saena's posture grew more rigid by the second, until the tension manifested as a neatly contained quiver. She knew it wasn't him, but Saena couldn't help it; the hatred and mistrust projected so easily, and paranoia whispered that there was a slim possibility they were even related. She didn't want to think on that and what it would mean, for this wolf was too old to be the Tam that Stark had spoken of, as well.

Before she could help it or compose herself, a low rumble closed the distance between them, and should Brontide look up, it would be to see hard, cold blue eyes staring directly at him.